


Maybe this Time

by tonysnark



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Burlesque Club, Alternate Universe - College/University, Canon Universe, Drabble Collection, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marvel 616 (Freeform), Marvel Universe, Minor Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Sexual Content, Ten Songs Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2659793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonysnark/pseuds/tonysnark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ten drabbles featuring Steve Rogers and Tony Stark in a variety of universes and situations.</p>
<p>Basically, they're dorks no matter where you put them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe this Time

**Author's Note:**

> I say drabbles, but they're more like really short one-shots.
> 
> I put my MP3 player on shuffle and used each song as a prompt. My taste in music is ridiculously diverse, so beware!

**“Dancing Cheek to Cheek”- Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald**

Steve loves dancing. He’s not the best at it, but he loves it.

He loves that he can turn on an old jazz album in the evening and Tony just _knows_ that he’s in the mood. The brunette will willingly come into his arms and they’ll dance in their socks in the kitchen, pressed close together and smelling like fresh shampoo and soap. They’ll move in a little circle and Steve will probably step on Tony’s feet and apologize profusely and Tony will pretend like it didn’t hurt even though it did and they’ll both laugh.

Steve also loves dancing at formal parties. He doesn’t care much for the fake-socializing and schmoozing that comes with big events and galas, but he attends when Tony does, because he thinks that it’s worth it for the dancing. Tony will look exceptionally handsome in one of his crisp designer suits and Steve will be in his military uniform and they’ll hold each other on the dance floor while live music echoes through whatever grand room they’re in. Maybe it’s a little silly, but Steve enjoys seeing the disappointed looks on the faces of Tony’s admirers when the two of them enter the dance floor. It reminds him that the billionaire could have anyone, and he chose _him._

No matter where they dance, Steve’s favorite part is having Tony so close to him, physically and emotionally. Even though Tony is shorter than him, he’ll tilt his head up and Steve will tilt his own down and they’ll dance cheek to cheek.  Sometimes Tony’s cheek will be a little scratchy, sometimes it will be perfectly smooth, but Steve will close his eyes and enjoy the tickle of his lips moving by his ear. Tony will croon the words to the song that’s playing as they dance, the action heart-wrenchingly intimate. Knowing that Steve is the only one he does that for is overwhelming, but he loves it.

Steve loves dancing. He’s not the best at it, but he loves it.

He loves dancing with Tony.

* * *

**“One More Night”- Maroon 5**

It’s not sweet or nice or loving in any way at all, but Tony won’t care.

He’ll take Steve in whatever way he can, and that means that he’ll let him shove him up against walls and doors and any surface at all and attack him. Steve is never gentle with him, his kisses clashing and violent and quick, his hands rough and searching as they strip him bare within seconds. Tony encourages him in whatever way he can because he’s afraid that if they slow down, that if they take the time to actually breathe, that they’ll remember why they swore they wouldn’t do this again.

Tony will tug at Steve’s hair and accept the bites and the raking of fingernails and the places where he knows he’ll be bruised in the morning. He’ll hold on and make sure that the other can’t get away because it’s too good and it’s too much but it’s not enough. Tony will let Steve fuck into him over and over again until his toes are curling and his fingers are numb and his throat is too sore to cry out anymore. He’ll only hear the sound of Steve’s pleasured grunts and his own breathless moans until it’s over with sweat and tears and gasps for air.

The only coherent words that will be spoken the entire time will be just before it begins. They say it every time, and every time it proves to be a lie.

_Just one more night._

* * *

**“Walk of Shame”- P!nk**

He’s a slut.

That’s the only thing Steve can think of when he stumbles out of a dormitory that isn’t his with his jacket in one hand and Bucky’s borrowed, too-small shoes in the other. It’s way too bright for eight in the morning in his opinion, and he squints at the sidewalk as he hurries along as fast as he can without looking like he’s in too much of a rush. He really wishes that he had had enough sense to keep his cell phone, dead or not, instead of giving it to Bucky along with his car keys- if only he could call for a ride…

A car drives by and Steve purposefully turns his head, heart pounding as it passes, half-expecting someone to lean out of the window and whoop and holler at him. They don’t. Exhaling, he tries his best to keep as far away from the road as he can, praying that he won’t run into anyone he knows. He had told himself that he would have just one drink last night, but Steve would never be any good at denying anything his old high school crush offered him… even if it was copious amounts of alcohol.

The little silver cross in the pocket of his rumpled jeans seems ten times heavier than it should be, but the slip of paper with Tony Stark’s cell phone number on it is even heavier.

Steve swallows and walks just a bit faster, fighting down the slight surge of pride that threatened to overwhelm his shame.

* * *

  **“Not as We” – Alanis Morissette**

Tony wakes up and reaches for the space next to him like he’s done every morning, his arm falling limp over an empty space. He makes two cups of coffee and the second goes cold. The radio isn’t on in the living room and there’s no rustling of newspaper when he sits down to check the stocks on his tablet. He stands in front of the mirror with a tie around his shoulders for a good ten minutes before remembering that no one is coming to tie it for him.

Tony goes to work and his receptionist doesn’t tell him that he shouldn’t look so pleased about coming in late again. He attends a meeting with the board and it isn’t interrupted by his phone going off. No one comes into his office with paperwork he left at home. He eats lunch alone. He gets sent flowers later in the afternoon without a hand-written note attached. The company phone never rings to remind him that he should stop working and come home for dinner.  He doesn’t get home until late.

There are no leftovers in the fridge waiting for Tony when he goes home, so he goes to bed early. He brushes his teeth without being reminded and changes into flannel pajama pants that aren’t ridiculously expensive. When he gets into bed it never jostles with the weight of another. The room is silent without the sound of rustling sheets and skin against skin, quiet moans and tender words never being uttered.

Tony doesn’t fall asleep until much later, and no one comes to gently wipe the moisture that’s gathered on his face.

* * *

**“Dancing in the Dark” – DEV**

Steve isn’t addicted to sex.

It would only be an addiction if he had a negative response to being celibate, and randomly popping boners doesn’t count as something _bad,_ so there.

And it’s not his fault that the littlest things remind him of Tony, and it’s definitely not his fault that about five seconds after he thinks about Tony he starts thinking about sex with Tony because Tony is _Tony._ He’ll be looking at his toothbrush and then he’ll think about how Tony forgot his toothbrush and then he’ll think about the toothbrush in Tony’s mouth and suddenly the image he has in his head changes so that those lips are wrapped around something that definitely isn’t a toothbrush—

So maybe Steve finds himself laying in the dark and 9/10 times he’s got a hand around himself. It’s not his fault that he equates the bed with sex-- of course he would get a little turned on. Besides, as long as he’s hard he might as well jerk off. And as long as he’s doing that, it seems pointless to not think about Tony.

Sure, Steve likes sex, it’s _kissing_ and _touching_ and _orgasms_ and everyone likes those. It’s not wrong to let his hands wander and pretend that they’re a little smaller and have more callouses. It is completely natural to have the spicy tang that’s so clearly Tony in his mouth as he pictures what they might do when he comes home. Muffling his noises when he finally tips over the edge and stars explode behind his eyelids is totally normal and maybe he gets into it a little too much but it’s Tony, and even an imagined Tony does nothing halfway.

He is _not_ addicted to sex.

~~Just Tony.~~

* * *

**“One Sweet Love” – Sara Bareilles**

Tony thought that there weren’t a lot of things in the world that could be worse than seeing someone you’re in love with being happy and in love with someone else. It’s a situation with two variants: the case when the ‘someone else’ is easy to dislike and you can’t believe that the person you love has such horrible taste when you could be so much better, and then the opposite situation when the ‘someone else’ is actually really nice and friendly and so much better for the person you love than you are. But either way, you feel pretty damn rotten because why can’t you just be happy for them?

As it turns out, there’s a third option, and it makes the other two look like cakewalks.

Tony can take a lot of shit. He’s a tough guy. But when Reed Richards opens that goddamned portal and Tony sticks his stupid nose right up to it so he can see through, he nearly chokes on his shocked gasp.

Apparently, there are universes where you and the person that you’re in love with actually end up together. It’s disgusting, like every romantic trope with candles and moonlight that you can think of, and Tony _aches_ to be in that world because that world has to be perfect. It couldn’t be anything _but_ perfect, not with the way that his alternate self is wrapped up in big, strong arms and receiving lightweight kisses given by delicious lips that part in the softest, most tender smile he’s never seen grace the face of the one that exists here. Tony wants. He wants and he wants and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop wanting.

It hurts. It brings up questions that Tony doesn’t want to think about, like in what way the other version of himself is better than he himself is, or what could be so different about him that he managed to get so lucky, and why, why can’t it be like that _here?_

But the worst part? It’s when the person you’re in love decides to see what you’re doing with Reed in your lab and ends up getting curious enough to also look through and see that universe. It’s when that person looks surprised, embarrassed, and then _amused_ before they say, “I thought I was ready to see anything, but give Tony Stark unlimited universes and of course he’ll stumble upon the one that I never even considered.”

And Tony can just laugh and nod and agree and pretend that Steve isn’t breaking his heart.

* * *

**“My Heart is Open” – Maroon 5**

Steve slams his hands down on the table with such force that he can feel the solid mahogany shudder and crack under his palms. He can barely breathe, and it reminds him so much of his asthma that he has to force the air to keep coming regularly in and out of his lungs as he looks up into the other man’s eyes.

“What do I have to do, Tony?”

Tony is scared. His face is impassive and he’s looking anywhere but Steve’s eyes, standing firm with his arms crossed. To anyone else it might look like stubbornness or maybe even boredom, but Steve knows when Tony’s walls are up, knows that he’s hiding behind this façade of disinterest, and it’s infuriating.

“Nothing. There’s nothing you can do, I’m just not-”

“Bull _shit_.” He can feel the growl come from deep in his throat, and Tony’s eyes briefly make contact with his own before darting away again. “Don’t treat me like some sort of love-sick child. I know you, and you know that I don’t buy a single word out of your mouth.”

“Why can’t you just leave it be, Steve?” The brunette scoffs and Steve’s hands curl into fists. “It was fun, okay? It was fun, but it was _just a fuck_. I’m not interested.”

God, he wants to punch someone. “Stop. Just… just stop.”

Tony meets his eyes as he walks forward and a real flicker of fear crosses over his expression. It breaks Steve’s heart to see it.

“Tony, listen to me, please,” Steve forcibly uncrosses Tony’s arms and grips his upper arms. “Don’t say anything, just listen. I want you to know that you can trust me. You give me this, and I swear that you won’t regret it. I don’t need you to change, I don’t want you to be any different, I just want you, and that includes your flaws. And I know that it’s asking a lot from you to take chances on people, but take a chance on me. I’m… I’m laying myself open for you here, okay?”

Tony’s eyes are huge, and Steve can see him struggling to look away.

“Say no one more time, and I’ll walk away, I promise, I’ll believe you and I’ll leave you alone.”

Steve loosens his grip and lets his hands trail down to take the calloused ones in front of him.

“But I want you to say yes. Say yes, Tony. Please.”

* * *

**“Heaven’s Not Enough” – Steve Conte**

Paradise is simple.

Tony thinks that maybe he should be bothered by that, but the numbers and the words aren’t loud enough for him to begin to decipher. If he tries really hard, he thinks that he can remember a time when data all flowed naturally throughout him like it was part of his body, and all he had to do was catch the right equation to understand something. But if it was ever like that (and he isn’t sure that it was), it isn’t like that anymore. Everything is simple. Everything is exactly what it is. Nothing is… not.

Sometimes Tony will sit out on the roof and stare at the black sky and imagine that there are little glowing lights embedded within the endless dark. He’ll think about what it might be like if he could touch it, if he could fly up there and put back those little pricks of brightness that he swears should be there. He might think a little bit too hard, because then there are ~~translucent screens around him and he’s enclosed in something that’s rocketing through the sky _a n d h e ’ s f a l l i n g , f a   l    l  i   n  g_~~

Tony has plenty to work on in his lab space. He makes things, creates objects that he doesn’t understand. Sometimes he’ll be in the middle of something and he’ll feel the data struggling to break free, surging right beyond his reach, but it hurts to try and catch it. All of his work disappears when he’s done, and when he pats Dum-E for behaving perfectly as usual, he forgets about it. Everything becomes simple. Easy. He might swivel around in his chair and his gaze might linger on a corner in his workshop where he thinks that he could probably fit some sort of desk, which is weird, because he already has a desk. Maybe the desk could be smaller, a place to ~~draw, with sketchbooks piled high and art supplies strewn around and a figure hunched over it with mussed blonde hair and _e y e s  a s b l u e a s t h e s  k  y   a n   d_ ~~

~~w h at’s **ER R OR** wr on g with h iM ho w cou ld heF orget thi s isn’t real thisIs n’t righ t ho wDoe s he  ge t o ut  of h ere st eve wh e  re iS  st e ve he   **ER ROR** h as to be  c o Min g fo r h im  he lp   **RE B OO TING**  h   e   l   p  ~~

Paradise is simple.

* * *

**“Feeling Good” – Michael Bublé**

In retrospect, Steve probably shouldn’t have trusted Bucky when he said that they were going to a jazz club. Yeah, they were playing jazz, and yes, it was a club, but calling it a “jazz club” was a little misleading.

For example, a jazz club didn’t usually have stripper poles or women wearing pieces of fabric that could hardly be called outfits. There was alcohol, but Steve was fairly certain that he wouldn’t have been offered a drink called “angel’s tit“. Most importantly, he was definitely sure that he wouldn’t have lit up like a stop light the moment they walked in nor would he have continued to do so for at least fifteen minutes following.

It didn’t look like a particularly seedy place. Steve hadn’t even suspected that he’d been tricked until the music started and poles extended from the stage floor. Bucky, of course, didn’t stop laughing at his sputtering until his attention was taken by a particularly athletic redhead who could probably kill someone with those thighs, and this left Steve to find something to look at that wasn’t the lacy red thong dancing in front of him.

It only took a few moments for him to find a point of interest. He’d assumed that the girls were dancing to a soundtrack, but in the center of the stage was a man singing into a microphone. He was dressed sharply in a solid black suit with the top buttons undone on the crimson shirt underneath,  a sleek black fedora, and a perfectly sculpted goatee. The man practically strutted across the stage exuding sexual appeal, and while the girls performing around him seemed to have most of the audience’s attention, he was clearly the orchestrator of it all. He reminded Steve of a ringmaster, and with every note change and every blare of trumpets, he would raise a hand or swivel his hips as the girls around him corresponded accordingly.

Sharp teal eyes found his and Steve suddenly found the smooth voice directed at him. He swallowed as the singer slunk across the stage to stop in front of him and smile both languidly and predatorily with white incisors dragging across his lower lip. He was both deadly and gorgeous, and Steve felt pinned to his seat by that gaze, bound there by the tendrils of his voice.

Maybe he was glad that this wasn’t just a jazz club.

* * *

  **“Spaceship” – Puddle of Mudd**

Tony has no idea why Steve gets like this when they’re on a spaceship, but he sure as hell isn’t complaining.

It goes down like this: they’ll have been to some galaxy or another to do Avengers stuff, they’ll finish whatever it is that they’re there to do, and sooner or later they’ll end up stuck on a spaceship back to Earth. The trip home usually lasts a couple of days, and without the tension of an upcoming mission, shit gets interesting.

Since it’s happened before in different places and at different times, Tony’s ready for just about anything by the second day of traveling, but it’s still a shock when he’s shoved into the medical bay and pushed against the floor to ceiling window there. In fact, he’s still making surprised noises by the time his lips are attacked and his feet are a good six inches off of the ground, but he shuts up pretty quickly once big, familiar hands are groping at his ass.

Does space make Steve super horny or something? Is it some sort of tension thing? Tony doesn’t know and he doesn’t really care- teeth are digging into his neck and his clothes are disappearing with loud tearing sounds, so he’s really quite otherwise occupied. He doesn’t even have to do anything since Steve’s already got him half naked and hard, but he grabs and bites and kisses wherever he can anyway, because Steve’s his and who _wouldn’t_ want to touch their ridiculously ripped boyfriend?

Time speeds up and Tony accidentally blinks, so he finds himself flipped around and propping himself up with two hands on the cold window looking out to the stars as Steve shuffles behind him, his presence big and warm and perfect. The solider aligns himself over him and presses his chest against his back so that Tony can actually feel his heart beating against his shoulders.

“Gonna give you everything I got,” Tony thinks he might’ve whimpered at the guttural tone that Steve uses. “And you’re gonna _take it_.”

Yeah, Tony thinks as stars suddenly shoot through his entire body until he’s pretty sure that there’s no window at all, and that he’s just hurling through the galaxy all on his own. He loves spaceships.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Avengers theme came on at one point and I briefly considered writing one for that, but all I could think of was the team posing and doing pelvic thrusts.


End file.
